


let the walls down and let me in

by CaptainJimothyCarter



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes [mentioned], Comfort, F/M, Light Angst, Natasha [mentioned], PTSD, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter Needs a Hug, Peggy has PTSD, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam [mentioned], Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve saves Bucky because its the right thing to do, Tony Stark [mentioned] - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJimothyCarter/pseuds/CaptainJimothyCarter
Summary: Yes, he was the enemy and depending on who you asked, he deserved to die, but not to Peggy. No man, no boy who cried for his mother while he lay bleeding on this frozen forest floor should be left to bleed out and die alone. So sue Peggy for having a heart. Sue her for kneeling down by his side and shouldering her rifle, just to pull the boy against her chest. Sue her for wearing her heart just this once on her sleeve.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	let the walls down and let me in

_There was blood that was not her own on Peggy’s hands. She could see the red coating her arms and hands, staining the skin underneath. This sensation of rapidly cooling blood would never leave her. It would permanently be embedded into her brain, as much as the horror scene before her. Smears of it were over her uniform, staining it with handprints that belong to the now cold body in her arms. A smear ran across her forehead, left behind from her fingers brushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face. War was a terrible thing. And those that suffered the consequences were the young men who were no more than just boys thrown into a situation they did not truly understand. All they saw was an honor in doing what was assumed good for their country. This did not exclude the dead young man laying in Peggy Carter’s arms, wearing the clear color of their enemies._   
  
_Steve stood above Peggy, his face masked of all emotions while hers held enough for both of them. For once, the walls had crumbled down and shown the true face of a young woman in this hell hole called war, trying to fix problems that shouldn’t exist in the first place. Steve said nothing when he saw the deceased enemy soldier in her arms instead, he turned the shield into a makeshift shovel and started to make an impromptu grave for the young boy._   
  
_Yes, he was the enemy, and depending on who you asked, he deserved to die, but not to Peggy. No man, no boy who cried for his mother while he lay bleeding on this frozen forest floor should be left to bleed out and die alone. So sue Peggy for having a heart. Sue her for kneeling down by his side and shouldering her rifle, just to pull the boy against her chest. Sue her for wearing her heart just this once on her sleeve._   
  
_She spent hours on the forest floor, holding a hand to the young man’s stomach, where his mortal wound lied. Stabbed and shot in the same instance, leading him to die one of the most painful, agonizing deaths known to man. To pass the time and to comfort him, she sung the songs of her childhood. While he didn’t speak a lick of English, he spoke French and that was enough for them to have a bond that soothed him in his final breaths._   
  
_“He’s sixteen,” Peggy whispered, finally breaking her silence as the sun slowly set around them. It painted them in lights of orange and red, the temperature dropping just as fast as it was setting. “Just sixteen and joined a war he shouldn’t be involved in so he could step up and help his sick mother. He should be working on the dock or in a shop, not dying in some forest! I don’t care if he was once our enemy. He’s nothing more than a boy who was brainwashed into thinking there was an honor in dying here.”_   
  
_The few tears that rolled down Peggy’s cheek froze instantly to her skin in this cold climate. She didn’t bother to wipe them off. “So call me - “_   
  
_“I’m not calling you anything,” Steve replied in a demanding tone that caught her attention. When Peggy looked into his baby blue eyes she saw nothing but compassion and sorrow. “Because you are not a traitor for wanting to cradle a boy who was dying from one of our weapons. You’re not a traitor for wanting to give him comfort, Peggy. And I will make sure others think the same.”_   
  
_Steve had knelt down in front of Peggy and cupped her face in one of his gloved hands. His face was covered in a mixture of dirt and blood, hiding the perfect array of freckles dashed across his cheeks. “But we do need to bury him and move on before it starts snowing.”_

* * *

It was just a nightmare. A nightmare that still wrung in Peggy’s head, as much as Steve’s final radio call in her head. If there was a silver lining, it was in the fact that her nightmares had finally moved on from losing Steve, to _that._ She laid in the cold bed, attempting to control her erratic heart rate and her uneven breathing. It's then that Peggy found a hand coming down to her stomach, attempting to offer comfort.   
  
Peggy’s golden eyes brimming with tears rose to follow the owner of the hand, giving a half sobbing, blubbering sound when she was met with Steve’s baby blue eyes. It had only been a few months since Steve came back into her life with an insane tale of time travel and the future. It had only been a few months since Peggy found the love of her life outside her front door. Only a few months since Steve had lead her on one final mission to rescue James Barnes from the hands of Hydra and prevent them from turning him into the Winter Soldier.   
  
Steve slowly sat up in bed and flicked on the bedroom lights, looking down at Peggy with a mixture of concern and sympathy. He didn’t even need to ask what was wrong. She knew Steve suffered from nightmares too, even if his were a mixture of course of events that had yet to come true and those he’d already suffered from. “Am I allowed to touch you?”   
  
The Captain had learned the hard way that when Peggy suffered from nightmares, at times they resulted in small hallucinations while her brain struggled to differentiate between what was real and what was her subconscious bringing up memories. He was gentle like that, attempting to make sure that Peggy _wanted_ to be touched before she was. When Peggy nodded, unsure if she could find her voice, Steve gently scooped her up and held her against his chest.   
  
The sound of his constantly thrumming heart was every proof that Peggy needed to prove to herself that not only was Steve real, but he was alive and in her bed. Closing her eyes, she could feel his fingers stroking over her curls, avoiding the damp knots from her shower just earlier today. Where she’d been too tired to properly comb it out and knew she’d regret it in the morning to come.  
  
It took her a while to find her voice.   
  
“Germany. 1943. We - ” Peggy was forced to stop when she felt her lower lip tremble.   
  
“We had just taken down Hyda’s southern base and were turning back to head back to base when we were invaded. That’s when you found Klaus. The sixteen-year-old German boy.” Steve finished for Peggy. She’d suffered this nightmare before, one too many times.   
  
“You didn’t judge me when I held him while he was dying or when I sang to him. You didn’t judge me when I broke down over someone who was meant to be our enemy.” A small hiccup escaped the brunette, causing her to sit up and reach for the cold glass of water. The few small sips helped wake her up, to stabilize that she was awake now and not stuck in some hallucination loop. “You dug him a grave and helped me bury him. You carried me back to camp. No one questioned us when you started to help clean me.”   
  
In fact, Dugan and Bucky had started to immediate help. The whole Howling Commandos stepped in, in some manner or another. A few turned their gaze properly and built an impromptu shower for her. Someone had built a fire and made coffee, real coffee. Steve had lent his clothes for Peggy to change into for the time being. Bucky had made sure that Peggy had a proper place to sleep in Steve’s tent because no one was going to question them, sacrificing his own bedroll for her. Dugan offered to take the first watch that was normally reserved for Steve who could afford to sit up for a few hours while everyone tried to recover.   
  
They all stepped in and if there was judgment to be had, no one voiced it. Peggy was all the more grateful for it.   
  
_“Peggy.”_ Steve’s voice was soft and calming, in an attempt to keep her calm. His hand rubbed over her spine, trying to offer any comfort he could in touch. “You survived a terrible war. You won’t walk away from that unscathed. These wounds will follow you. They will hurt. They will linger. You can run from it, but they will follow you. You can’t escape your past.” Pressing his nose to her hair, he breathed in her rose and lavender scent that lingered on her skin. “But I promise you that I will be here for you to comfort you, to be sure that you never suffer alone again.”   
  
Sitting up in Steve’s lap, Peggy straddled him so she could read his expression. Sometimes it was hard to read him. At times, he would go complete stoic. He would have a distant look in his eyes and that exhaustion that she saw when he was first on her doorstep would make that appearance again. Steve’s exhaustion stemmed from the fact that he had suffered too many great losses and fought in too many battles, more so than a man should have. He bore the world on his shoulders too many times.  
  
Peggy was aware of the fact that he had lost a lot, just to gain it back again, and lose it again. She was fully aware of the fact that he had suffered. And he chose to do in silence, so he wouldn’t burden her.   
  
“I could say the same to you,” she whispered, causing Steve to give a throaty laugh. Pressing her face into his shoulder, Peggy could feel his arms wrapping around her, holding her close.   
  
“We’re talking about you not me, Pegs. There’s no shame in crying it out, Peggy. It does not make you any less of the woman I love.” Rolling to his side, Steve cradled them both. There were a few minutes of silence, a few beats before he felt the tremble in Peggy’s shoulders. It soon followed by a sob escaping her lips, and his night-shirt drinking in her tears.   
  
Peggy cried for hours.   
  
She paused only when Steve insisted that she needed to drink some water. For those few hours, Steve said nothing. He cooed at her and rubbed her back, but he did nothing to calm her down. Because this is what she needed, she needed to let it out. Because war itself dragged you down. It wore you down. It was ugly and exposed the raw, ugly side of you. To the point that all you could do was cry because you had no energy to do nothing less. And Peggy was doing that right now.   
  
A few tears of his own escaped Steve’s eyes over all that he had lost.   
  
Natasha. Tony. To see the fact that if he had survived the crash, he could’ve rescued Bucky. He could’ve prevented the pain and suffering the man went through. He could’ve _saved_ him. With this knowledge, of knowing what Bucky had gone through, Steve used it to rescue the Bucky of this timeline. Timelines be damned, he couldn’t live in the past and know Bucky had suffered.   
  
And the Bucky of now slept in a room two doors down from their bedroom, recovering.   
  
Peggy’s tears stemmed from her nightmare, yes. They stemmed from all she had suffered and lost during the war, starting with her father, her fiance, Micheal, and even Steve. Because even if Steve was alive and right here with her, Peggy still suffered. She still suffered from terrorizing, crippling nightmares, and moments where she didn’t think Steve was real. Where he was still dead. Even though he was holding her, sometimes her mind told her he was still gone.  
  
It was a process to overcome.   
  
Wordlessly pulling away from the cocoon, Peggy could see dawn coming over their neighboring houses. This meant that she had cried for longer than she had slept and her body felt it. Steve and Howard had been insisting for days that she was running herself ragged and would have a burn out sooner or later. They both insisted that they could handle SHIELD for a day or two while she recovered.   
  
“Today,” Peggy paused as she smelt coffee being brewed. Coffee meant that James was having a good day. “Today might be one of those rare times where I admit that you and Howard are right. I think I will use a vacation day and we’ll let Howard run SHIELD for a day or two.”


End file.
